“We just got to go for it Johnno,” Al insisted, so off we went limping along like those Olympic walkers. “Make them screw tarts till they’re cured,” Al translated from complete bollocks to Al speak, “Sounds like a plan.”
“On the NHS?” I asked. xnx Desmond stared at her, his cock tent-poling his pyjamas, as his resolve crumbled and his curiosity took over. “You fucking groped me!” I pointed out, “What the fuck do you think I am? “East,” I says, “Where’s the fucking railway?”
“There,” says Al, pointing, “Fuck we’re fucking miles from our place!”
“Can you run in those wellies?” I asked, “Because it will be fucking light soon and no way do I want any fucker seeing me dressed like this!”
“Too right,” Al says, “Come on!” and we legged it. I checked me wallet, it seemed ok, and handed Al his jacket to check, “You want
